Working as a police officer in Mexico Chapter 1568: 727: Just Don't Send Victor to the North Ameri

Capítulo 1568: Chapter 727: Just Don’t Send Victor to the North Arican Martial Temple!

Konrad Adenauer and Otto Model erged from the special train, with the forr stumbling slightly, prompting Major General Model beside him to instinctively reach out and support him.

“Steady, now is not the ti for panic.”

Konrad grabbed Model’s arm, “Otto, you must help this ti!”

“This isn’t just a matter of public order, it’s a sky-shattering crisis! I need military support, I need your personnel to control the situation.”

Model nodded succinctly, “Don’t worry, Konrad, the 179th Army will cooperate with you.”

“Thank you, Otto!” Konrad repeatedly expressed gratitude, feeling sowhat reassured by the military’s promise.

He abruptly turned around, almost running towards his special car outside the station, while instructing his trailing secretary, “Call that fool of a police minister! Tell him to get to my office imdiately!”

The secretary dared not delay, promptly taking out his phone.

Konrad climbed into the car, slamd the door shut, and shouted at the driver, “Back to the state governnt! Quickly! At maximum speed!”

He did not wish to end up plunged into the quarry pit.

Damn it…

Why forsake good days for dirty deeds?

…

As Victor hung high over the corrupt officials of Quintana Roo, decisively intervening in dostic affairs, the neighboring ili Ruan began to toughen up.

The newly appointed Great Commander Little Bush, coming from a political family and burdened with the unfulfilled ideals and expectations of his father Old Bush, was far from a re puppet of vested interests.

He aspired to be another “Bush” president after Roosevelt, to shape the Arican century and define the direction of the Empire, starting his own “post-Roosevelt era.”

January 8, 1996, dawn.

The morning light seeped through the curtains, spilling into the bedroom.

Little Bush kissed the cheek of his still dreaming wife Laura, his motion gentle yet with an extrely determined look in his eyes, he gently got up, dressed neatly, and while adjusting his tie in the mirror, he saw not just a husband, a father, but a leader soon stepping onto the national battlefield.

Sitting in the special car heading to Capitol Hill, he gazed out at the fleeting scenery in silence, holding his speech script.

The motorcade arrived at the Capitol Hill, the white neoclassical building solemn in the winter sunlight yet… slightly outdated.

Little Bush got out of the car, looked up at the massive do, feeling the weight of history.

Hmm… it was just dilapidated and decayed.

But he took a deep breath, tidied his suit, rubbed his face with force, and strode determinedly into the Parliant Building.

Inside the chamber, seats were fully occupied.

mbers of both houses, regardless of party affiliation, all focused their gaze on the youthful newly appointed President.

Curiosity, scrutiny, anticipation, disdain… various emotions mingled in the air.

Of course, there was also despair…

ili Ruan has reached such a state, is there still a need for etings?

Everyone is scheming to make money quickly and slip away.

If not for Little Bush’s strong insistence and the help from the few political clans behind him, who would have the heart to do this?

Little Bush steadily walked up to the podium, adjusted the microphone height, he didn’t start imdiately, instead, he slowly scanned the familiar and unfamiliar faces below, as if etching each reaction into his mind.

The mont of silence, with a pin-drop audible.

Then, he spoke:

“Mr. Speaker, esteed mbers of parliant, ladies…”

“Before stepping into this sacred hall, I glanced at the calendar, today—January 8, 1996. I presu so of you here may know that today is also the birthday of our Southern neighbor, Mr. Victor from xico.”

“I don’t know what kind of ‘birthday gift’ he will receive.”

“Yet, standing here today, what I want to discuss is not soone else’s birthday, but every day of the United States of Arica! It is about giving this country, and the most excellent group of people defending it—our heroic military, a truly deserving gift for their sacrifices!”

So beneath who were initially apathetic suddenly perked up, starting to look at him.

Because anything related to the military…

Indicates it’s no trivial matter.

“Nurous forefathers once seated in this room, they made choices here determining the fate of the nation. History watches us, just as we watch them today.”

“However, gentlen, ladies, we must admit a simple yet brutal fact!”

His voice abruptly raised, with an urgent montum, “We are failures!”

“In the deserts of Iraq, our soldiers endure fifty-degree heat, in the muddy trenches of Bosnia, they wrap themselves in soaked blankets, listening to distant gunfire from unnad sources!”

“Who are they?!”

Little Bush almost roared, his fist lightly hitting the podium, “They are our sons, our daughters, our husbands, our wives! They are farm boys from Texas, Latino girls from Bronx District in New York, tech experts from Silicon Valley in California, and modest youths from the Kansas plains!”

“They abandoned comfort, opted for hardship, forsaked safety, chose danger, even relinquished life, embraced responsibility!”

“Then, what about us?!”

“What have we given them?”